Morning Poem

for Rilke


Still, one can’t avoid what’s destined.

Spring comes, with her tangle of stems and wings.

Mysterious, how one heart knows another—

or swells right out of it, spreads itself, and sings!


Embrace what’s for embracing. Prize

the instrument by which your tale comes true:

like rain, you astonish me with life. I’ll rouse

all nature to root for you.

after listening to a past life regression hypnosis I found on Youtube (for the fourth time)